I hear people judging me. They may not be there looking at the mirror with me, but I hear them nonetheless. They have taught me to judge myself for them, so that they don’t have to be there doing it all the time. I do it all the time for them

I hate the mirror. I hate what it represents in our society. If you use it, you’re vain. If you don’t use it, you are a disgusting slob.

Why do we have to live in a world where people starve themselves to sickness or even death because other people have convinced them they look fat?

Why do we have to live in a world where people try to, and do, kill themselves because they feel they don’t measure up to whatever invisible standards others have imprinted into their minds?

When I look into the mirror, I hear the voices, but I see me. I see the hardness in my eyes, looking back, telling me not to listen to the voices. Telling me I am stronger than that, I am better than that, and I can make a difference.

And I try to do that.

I know I come off as a sarcastic bitch sometimes. But there is a reason for it. I’m not really that bitter about the world. Okay, maybe I am, but I do have a reason for it. I am trying to put a little humor back out there. Maybe bring a smile out somewhere. Even if it is only for the little demon on my shoulder who grins and yells “That’s right! Fuck ’em all!”